


leave out all the rest

by KayCeeCruz



Series: It's Only Time [11]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayCeeCruz/pseuds/KayCeeCruz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin finds his place.</p><p><i>It was strange to walk off the plane, out of the airport and into a cab, feeling nothing but numbness and the unending, dull ache of loss. It was at this point during his trips home that he’d be practically jumping inside his skin to be near Brian. Now, he felt… nothing. </i></p><p><i>He wasn’t used to it. Loss. He could admit that. Aside from Vic, he’d been lucky enough not to have to know grief in that way. Justin thought of his own tragedies, the ones that had almost shattered him, but at that moment, they couldn’t compare.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	leave out all the rest

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to April for taking the time to beta. She is awesome as always. Feedback is appreciated. <3

Justin ignored the sound of his loft door opening, and the clicking of Hannah’s boots across his floor, his mind shifting only slightly at the intrusion, and returned to the painting he was constructing. Bold red colors framed in thick lines of black, deep blue hues, curves and angles… He stared and wondered when it had become Molly but knew better than to question it. He brushed long strokes over shorter ones, patterns formed in his mind’s eye somehow transferring to cloth and canvas.

He angled one way and hissed, stopping when the sharp pain radiated from his wrist up his arm.

“Again?”

He didn’t turn around or acknowledge the question.

It was one he didn’t want to think about.

“You’ve been at it a while.” Hannah’s calm voice gave nothing away, even though Justin knew her concern. “Why don’t you take a break?”

Shake of head and hand, he returned to canvas, slowly bending to where he knew it would stay comfortable. His feet moved a few inches when he needed a different angle. “I need to get this to a place where I won’t be thinking about it every second I’m not here painting.”

“Why don’t you just take it with you?”

Justin shook his head. “Nope. I don’t want to be distracted from having my brains fucked out all weekend.”

Hannah’s laugh was light and real. “You lucky motherfucker.” She punched his shoulder playfully, and Justin watched her tidy up his space. His heart ached a little. He was going to miss her like a son of a bitch.

That thought brought a completely different feeling: giddiness and anticipation. It was still a long way off, and there was the whole convincing Brian he was ready part to contend with, but the more weeks passed… the more times he visited the family, the more he walked into the loft, the more he saw, touched, tasted Brian… the more sure he was that what he wanted was home.

“You got my flight, right?”

Hannah nodded, rolling her eyes. “Yes, your Highness. You’re set for Thursday night. You’ve got a meeting tomorrow with that gallery owner in Soho. He wants to talk about a new exhibition. And Paul said he needed lunch with you on Wednesday. Something about some special project he had going with ArtScene. Other than that, you are free to paint and create and be a pain in my ass.”

“You know you love it.”

Her retort was cut off by the phone and she picked up with a smile, her middle finger thrown in his direction. “Justin Taylor Paint by Numbers, how can I help?”

Justin laughed, picking up a wet sponge to throw at her, when Hannah’s smile fell and she muttered a quick, “Of course, just a moment,” and walked to him with the cordless, holding it out.

“It’s Michael.”

Justin’s heart stopped, honest to God, stopped for a whole fucking second, and he looked at her extended hand like it was a snake ready to snap.

Something was wrong.

He knew that before he put the phone to his ear, before he heard Michael’s raspy, tear-filled voice, before he was even aware of the tears in his own eyes.

Justin knew.

“When?”

“Last night.” There was a pause, and Michael stuttered in a long breath before saying, quietly, “Come home, Justin. Brian needs you.”

 

  


 

Lindsey hadn’t seen the other car coming.

That was what Michael had told him when he’d called back with his flight number and he’d asked what happened.

Lindsey. Sweet, beautiful, loving Lindsey.

On her way to pick up Gus from school, distracted probably, and the other car had run the red light.

Michael had said they’d been told it was instantaneous.

Lindsey hadn’t felt anything.

Justin clutched his stomach, grief overturning everything, and he ran to his bathroom, head in the toilet, sobs loosening and filling his throat.

Lindsey.

 

  


 

It was strange to walk off the plane, out of the airport and into a cab, feeling nothing but numbness and the unending, dull ache of loss. It was at this point during his trips home that he’d be practically jumping inside his skin to be near Brian. Now, he felt… nothing.

He wasn’t used to it. Loss. He could admit that. Aside from Vic, he’d been lucky enough not to have to know grief in that way. Justin thought of his own tragedies, the ones that had almost shattered him, but at that moment, they couldn’t compare. Not when Lindsey was gone.

He watched the streets rush by in a blur, colors streaming together in one long line, and somehow he didn’t see it. He couldn’t feel it like he normally did. When the cab pulled up to the square building, Justin stared at it for a long moment. Paying quickly, he pulled his carry-on over his shoulder and hurried to the entrance, taking the steps two at a time. At the large metal door, he stopped again, afraid and unsure what to expect.

The old Brian -- the one he’d known inside out -- would have been locked away, in the dark, bottle of Beam in one hand, party favors in another.

Or he would have dulled his pain with another vice.

Justin had learned enough in the past six months of visits and weekends and phone calls and emails to know that this Brian, who was very much still his Brian - just a little different - might not react that way.

He wasn’t sure what he preferred. Knowing what he would find or the unexpected he didn’t know how to handle.

He slid his key in the lock, turning and pulling the door aside, the loud grinding of the gears as it opened echoing into the loft. He stepped through and closed it as quietly as he could.

“Hi, Justin.”

He jumped at the voice, turning to see Trevor and Hunter standing in the kitchen, bowls in hands, obviously in the middle of cooking breakfast. “Hi, guys.” He dropped his bag on the floor, unceremoniously, and walked toward the counter, leaning over to see the stove. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

Hunter cleaned his hands on his jeans, then walked to Justin, pulling him into a hug. Justin patted Hunter’s back, and when he felt a shudder, he gripped tightly. “It’s okay.”

Hunter nodded into Justin’s shoulder. “I know. It’s just -- she was awesome.”

“I know.”

They pulled apart and Hunter returned to his batter, leaning back when Trevor wrapped his arms around his waist.

Justin glanced around the loft, noticing the closed bedroom doors for the first time. He pointed with his thumb toward it. “He in there?”

He received twin nods in return, and taking a deep breath while wiping sweaty hands on his pants, he opened the door slightly, enough to let him through, and closed it softly behind him.

When he turned to look at the room, he froze in place.

Brian and Gus were lying side by side, facing each other on the almost too large bed, Gus’ breaths steady and deep, and Justin felt that pang inside grow to near bursting, painful. Brian’s hand was holding Gus in his sleep. Justin didn’t breathe. Just stood at the door, heart in his throat, watching the man he loved protect the son he adored. He felt more than saw Brian’s eyes on him.

“Hey.”

It was whispered, and Justin met Brian’s gaze, made out the pain in them through the early morning light filtering in from the closed blinds.

“Hey yourself.”

He didn’t wait for an invitation, or worse yet, rejection from Brian. He slipped his shoes off at the door, coming round to the other side of the bed and sliding under the covers behind Gus. His hand found Brian’s and their fingers intertwined, Brian’s flexing against Justin‘s, finding the indentations from years of familiarity . Even after so much time, they’d left their mark on each other indelibly.

“I came as soon as Michael called.”

Brian nodded, tightening his hold on Justin’s hand but otherwise remaining silent. They stayed that way for what seemed an eternity. Their hands readjusted every so often to allow Gus to move or to stop their fingers from falling asleep.

But they never let go.

Justin was drifting in and out when Brian finally spoke. “I would have called you but…”

“I understand. You had someone else who needed you more, Brian.”

Justin leaned his head on the one free arm he had, smiling sadly in the darkness of the room, even though he knew Brian couldn’t really see it. Brian’s fingers loosened just a little, and when Justin dared to look over Gus, Brian’s eyes were closed, his breath deep and steady…

 

  


 

Gus wasn’t talking.

That was the first fact that Justin became aware of through the fog of grief and pain that their small family waded through. It took him no less then ten minutes after waking later the afternoon he arrived to realize that.

“He hasn’t said a word since yesterday.”

Brian’s voice was deep and wavered just a little at the end.

Justin nodded and rubbed his hands over Brian’s solid, hard back, soothing quietly.

There was nothing more to say.

Lindsey was dead.

Gus wasn’t talking.

The world was dark and silent and aching.

 

  


 

Mel was a wreck, hiding away in a room from everyone and everything that loved her.

“What do we do?” Michael whispered at the door, watching her curled up in the middle of the bed in his guest room. “She doesn’t want to eat. She doesn’t want to see the kids.” He closed the door, looking at Justin. “She’s not even crying anymore. She’s just staring at the wall.”

Justin put a hand on Michael’s shoulder, steering him away from Mel and to the kitchen, where he knew they could find a use for his friend. He brushed his hand over Michael’s head and said, “If it was Ben...”

Michael stopped, closed his eyes and nodded. “I’d be dead.”

Justin hugged him for a moment before going to answer the knock at the door.

He knew what Michael meant.

Pushing away the thought of losing Brian, he greeted Debbie and Carl with a sad smile, taking the bags they brought and following them back into the warm apartment.

 

  


 

Everyone was falling apart around him. Debbie cried constantly. Mel had gotten out of bed but spoke only when spoken to. Justin still wasn’t sure what Brian had said to her, but ten minutes after he’d gone into the room with her, she’d stepped out, haggard and a little shattered but there.

Ben and Hunter ran the comic store and diner, while Trevor kept the calm, fielding condolences from friends and family. Michael took care of JR and Mel. Emmett arranged the wake, like only Emmett could. Ted took care of the finances, and Brian took care of the funeral details, his son, and whatever else was left.

Which Justin realized pretty quickly meant Brian was the one directing everyone else, picking them up when they broke and swallowing his own grief, which Justin knew was killing Brian silently, to do what he did best.

Be Brian. Not fall apart.

Which meant that Justin’s one job was to take care of Brian. To make sure that didn’t happen right now. To be there when it finally did.

Justin held onto Gus’ hand, squeezing it lightly and smiling when Gus looked up at him. Gus looked away without returning it but his hand stayed in Justin’s. They stood in front of Brian’s closet, some of Justin’s clothes and Gus’ hanging right next to Brian’s Gucci and Prada, a little out of place but beginning to blend.

“Let’s get you dressed, kiddo.”

Justin tried to move forward but Gus’ hand tugged on his, squeezing harder, and when he glanced down, there was a firm set to the eight-year-old’s face, one that Justin recognized.

Brian’s voice carried from the doorway and Justin startled at it.

“I’ll get his clothes so you can get him dressed.”

Justin met Brian’s tired eyes and nodded once. “Okay.”

He watched Brian cross the room, stop at their side, caressing Gus’ head gently until the boy leaned a little into it. He still wouldn’t let go of Justin, though.

Justin met Brian’s eyes over Gus. Somehow Justin’s presence was doing some good for Gus. Brian moved away, pulling a child-sized suit out from the jam-packed closet, then bending to pick up shoes, placing them on the bed behind Justin.

“I’ll get something started for breakfast.”

Brian walked away, glancing at Justin and smiling feebly, silent message sent and received.

Gus wanted Justin. For whatever reason.

Brian was giving Justin responsibility over the son he loved more than anything and anyone else. Including him.

Something fluttered in Justin’s chest and he ignored it.

He had a job to do.

 

  


 

He hated everything about this.

It wasn’t dislike or discomfort.

It was complete and total loathing.

Justin stared at the front of the church, at the open casket - despite Brian’s insistence to Lindsey’s parents that the kids shouldn’t see her that way - and the pale, immovable figure inside. His eyes refused to take it all in. The flattened blonde hair, the bloated face, white, lifeless. Too much makeup to try and cover it.

The droning of the priest made his skin itch inside his suit. He wanted to yank it off, scream that it wasn’t fair to Gus. To JR. To Mel. To Brian. To any of them. Wanted to kick and punch and hurt something or someone like he hadn’t wanted to since his very brief stint as a hetero-basher.

If he closed his eyes and begged with whatever deity would listen, then maybe it could all change. Lindsey would survive. Gus would still be whole. Mel would have her heart.

And Brian wouldn’t be drowning under the weight of so much grief and sadness.

Justin followed the line of Brian’s shoulders, tension evident in his back and arms. There was the slightest tremor, something that only those who knew him well could notice. He glanced down and watched Gus’ hand reach for Brian, their fingers lacing together and holding.

Justin’s heart broke just a little more.

 

  


 

It was raining when they reached the cemetery. Not a shower of water to cleanse the earth so much as a small drizzle. The kind that made everything damp, uncomfortable, and almost intolerable. He watched the casket lowered into the ground, hearing the tiny squeak of the lift as its wheels rotated. Brian’s arm brushed against his and Justin leaned in, quiet, supporting, unobtrusive. When Brian wanted him, when he needed him, Justin knew he’d ask.

They moved forward one at a time, dropping a flower into the hole with what used to be Lindsey. It wasn’t like Vic’s funeral where everyone had something to say. Only Michael really spoke. Telling a funny story about Lindsey and her first perm. The soft chuckles spread over the crowd and Justin smiled at his friend.

Sometimes Michael was the best person Justin knew.

The crowd dispersed, clumping into groups as they walked slowly from the grave. Some going back to their day, feeling that bit of sadness but getting on with their lives. He watched Gus stand next to the grave, head lowered to stare at the ground. Some would never be able to have the same life back.

He took a step toward Gus, glanced over to see Brian starting to do the same, when they both stopped. Emmett was kneeling next to Gus, whispering in his ear, and then a moment later, Gus turned to hug him, holding on. Emmett picked him up, motioned to the car with his head, and Brian nodded.

Justin watched them as Emmett walked away, Gus’ head cradled on his shoulder, and Justin could hear the sound of Emmett’s voice as he comforted.

He turned back toward Brian. Maybe he could convince him to go home. Take a nap before heading back to Debbie’s. His eyes found him talking to a familiar and not exactly welcomed face.

Greg Black gripped one of Brian’s arms, the other flat over his back, soothing movements.

It was inappropriate and ridiculous but Justin wanted to punch the fuck out of him.

Brian nodded, then turned to look behind at Justin and waved for him.

Justin smiled and walked to him, eyes challenging Greg, and satisfaction winning when Greg’s hands fell to his side.

Brian grabbed Justin’s hand, and after a few words of goodbye, walked with him back to the limo.

Justin squeezed his hand tightly.

 

  


 

“Leave it to Debbie to feed the entirety of Liberty Avenue.”

Justin nodded, smiling softly at Emmett as he went by, but his eyes followed Brian’s movements through the room. Brian maneuvered his way, pausing for condolences every few moments until he finally reached the couch, taking the seat next to Gus. Justin’s gaze flicked to Mel, who sat to Gus’ other side, and frowned. She’d barely registered Gus or JR at all the last few days, her grief so deep that Justin was afraid she would be permanently lost there. His eyes moved to Gus, who glanced at Mel quickly before leaning into his father’s side.

“Is he talking yet?”

Justin turned to Drew, patting him on the shoulder. “Hey. When did you get in?”

Drew brought him into a half hug before pulling away to smile sadly down at Justin. “About an hour ago. I hated to miss the funeral. I loved Lindsey.”

Justin nodded. “We all did. “ Remembering Drew’s question, he sighed. “He still hasn’t said a word.”

Drew kept his eyes on the couch where Justin’s heart sat. “It’ll take time.”

Justin nodded silently. There was nothing to say. He knew better than most that it was only time that healed. Time that made everything better. That, at least, was something they could give Gus.

Time.

Brian looked up, searching the room until he found him, his eyes locking with Justin’s. He stared at him, one arm stretched over the back of the couch, the other gently stroking his son’s head.

Drew cleared his throat and excused himself, saying he needed to find Emmett. Justin vaguely acknowledged that Drew left before walking to the couch. Halfway across the room, he stopped for a moment. Greg paused in front of Gus and Brian. Justin’s hand tightened on his glass, and he fought away the angry beast gnawing at his chest.

Greg was Brian’s friend.

He was Lindsey’s as well.

Brian’s eyes had softened slightly at seeing Greg and he nodded, standing to accept Greg’s hug, speaking quietly to him.

Part of Justin wanted to turn and run, too afraid this meant he was too late. Part of him, a much bigger part of him, wanted to punch Greg until he bled. Justin took a deep breath. He’d never been a violent man, despite trying to be. Somehow, that part of him won, and he calmly walked toward Brian.

Brian’s head turned slightly, one corner of his mouth turning up, and Justin’s insides warmed and shifted at the love that shone from Brian’s eyes. In the corner of his vision, he saw Greg turn, his back going rigid before he gripped Brian’s arm, excusing himself and leaving. Justin barely paid attention to him as he took his seat next to Brian. His hand brushed through the hair at Brian’s nape.

“You ready to go home?”

Brian leaned slightly, almost minutely, into Justin. “In a little while.”

Justin nodded, his arm draping over Brian’s shoulder. “Okay.”

They sat in silence, the only sound Justin’s hand against the material of Brian’s suit jacket.

“Thank you… for being here.”

Justin paused, turned to look at Brian, and smiling just for him, he leaned in, brushing a kiss against soft lips. “Where else would I be?”

 

  


 

A little while turned out to be hours, and by the time they’d returned to the loft, Justin was exhausted. His mind buzzing with a million thoughts, his heart heavy, and his body aching from being so emotionally drained.

But he knew what he was feeling was nowhere near what Brian was going through.

Justin clenched his hand into a fist, expelling a deep breath as he moved farther into the loft. The screeching of the door closing surrounded him and he glanced behind, aching when Brian leaned his head against the metal for a long moment.

He choked back Brian’s name along with his need to fix everything. To make it better. He didn’t know how to do that.

The last few hours had Brian taking a completely vacant Mel home, leaving her in Emmett and Drew’s care. They’d helped settle everything down at Debbie’s. And when the time came to leave Gus with Ben and Michael, at least for the night, it had taken them an hour before Gus would let go of Brian, and that had been after they’d promised they’d both be there in the morning to pick him up.

“Drew said he’d go with me tomorrow to buy a bed for Gus. We could divide the living room, give him some space. At least until…” Justin let the sentence trail off then, Brian’s arms wrapping around him. He placed his hands over where Brian’s met on his stomach. “Tell me what you need.”

He could feel warm breath on his neck, the weight of Brian’s chin on his shoulder, and for a long moment Justin thought that maybe he could get close to Brian. He’d give him what he needed. He would be asked.

“I need a shower.”

Justin closed his eyes, letting out an, “Okay,” on a long exhale, and then Brian’s warmth was gone, sweeping past him, that wall still there between them. It wasn’t as steady as it used to be, cracks and lines in its plaster now, holes where they’d started to tear down.

But it still stood.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, burning itch subsiding.

It would take time.

He had that in spades.

 

  


 

Spoon. Fork. Knife.

Spoon. Fork. Knife.

Plate. Glass.

Plate. Glass.

It was almost like meditation for him. Organizing, sorting, placing. He’d never been a tidy person, far from it. He thrived on chaos around him. Books strewn over tables, bag always on the floor, clothes rarely on the hanger, canvases covering every available space. It was the artist in him that craved the freedom of mess.

But then he’d find himself spending hours categorizing colors into their hues, ranging them from lightest to darkest. Sizing his brushes and tucking them in the drawers, pencils sorted by lead numbers. He would zone out, find his center, let his mind go blank, and whatever was troubling him would vanish. At least it seemed that way. Usually, his problem was a particular painting that was giving him trouble. Whenever he came out from his near-trance, he’d find the solution.

He placed Tupperware inside the fridge, finding that he had to take out and reorganize food. Apparently, Brian had learned to buy more than just water and poppers in the last four years. Justin smiled, shoving the last of the plastic dishes inside and closing the door. He swiped the counter with a dish towel, folding it and setting it next to the sink.

The sound of the shower had stopped a while ago, but he knew, despite wanting to touch him, soothe him, that Brian had to make the next move. He couldn’t push. Not where this was concerned.

Walking around the counter, he peered into the bedroom, expecting Brian on the bed, smoking or drinking or both.

The bed was empty, as was the room.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he glanced at the half-closed bathroom door. He stamped out the urge to walk in there and hold onto Brian. Make him talk. Make him react.

Justin had learned much in the last few years. The biggest had been knowing when what someone else needed was more important than what you wanted.

He changed into his sweats, taking a clean white t-shirt out and shoving shaking arms inside. He couldn’t hear anything inside the bathroom. When he was done, he walked over slowly, knocking, and when no one responded, he stepped in.

Empty.

The air was still damp with steam, water droplets starting to dry on the clear pane of the shower door, wet towel thrown over the sink. Turning back into the bedroom, he walked out, standing just inside the doorway.

“Looking for someone?”

Justin started, gaze finding Brian in the darkness of the living room, the red glow of his cigarette giving him away. Smoke billowed into the air and Brian’s eyes glinted in the light filtering from the window.

They held looks for a long stretched out moment.

Then Justin realized with clarity what he needed to do. It had come to him during his kitchen meditation and he hadn’t paid attention to it.

He held Brian’s stare as he moved across the room, past tables and shadows and doubts. Reaching out, he plucked the cigarette from between Brian’s lips, crushing it into the ashtray, returning his gaze to Brian’s.

He wanted to tell Brian so much. That he wasn’t alone. That he was loved. That he could grieve. But even this Brian… the one that had somehow evolved into something more without being less than who he was… wouldn’t take any of that. Defenses would go up and this - what they both needed - would change.

Justin didn’t want that. For himself. Or for Brian.

His fingers traced a delicate line over jaw and cheekbones, stopping to comb hair behind ears and thread gently. Brian’s eyes stayed on his, widened with heat when Justin opened his legs, straddling hips between them, breathing deep when their hard cocks rubbed together through cotton. He leaned forward, foreheads touching gently, hands delving into hair, his breath on Brian’s lips.

He didn’t try to kiss him. Just continued the slow rhythm of his hips, pressing in when Brian swallowed a moan. He nuzzled his cheek against Brian’s, breathing onto skin. He was open and there and waiting.

It had to come from Brian.

It didn’t take long.

Brian’s hands gripped onto Justin’s hips, lifting for a moment and Justin readjusting, legs wrapping around Brian’s hips, feet meeting in the small of Brian’s back. Hands pulled him up, grasping his ass, and suddenly Justin felt them moving. His mouth was assaulted by teeth and heat and tongue. He opened to it, leaving greedy sighs and moans inside Brian. Justin’s hands gripped Brian’s shoulders, legs tightening as they moved across the room.

He felt the mattress under him and Brian’s weight pinning him down. Desperate hands pulling at his shirt, his pants, pulling down and off until all that was left was skin. Justin followed suit, discarding Brian’s clothes in a blink, and then it was just them. Legs over legs, arms touching arms, heat and need throbbing everywhere. When he opened his eyes, he found Brian’s staring right back. Something in their depths, he’d rarely seen and Justin blinked, recognizing it instantly.

Knowing what he needed to do.

He pushed against the bed, turning them over, positioning Brian underneath him, smiling when his eyebrow rose slightly in surprise. He pressed one kiss against Brian’s mouth, licking slowly over lips and neck and chest. He paused to take one nipple into his mouth, listening to the gasp that left Brian when he nipped then lapped, soothing. Tongue circling one then moving slowly, peppering kisses across sternum until he reached the other. He gave it the same attention, one hand pinching the oversensitive nub between his thumb and finger.

Brian’s breathing rushing into the air, Justin followed a steady path down, over clenched muscles and dark hair that trailed until his face was buried in Brian’s scent. He breathed in, feeling the slow movement of Brian arching up slightly into him. His face nuzzled the hard shaft, whispering words across the almost purple head. His eyes flicked up to Brian’s, taking in the tension in his shoulders, his face, and keeping their gazes locked, Justin licked at the hard cock, mouth sucking slightly before pulling away.

“Justin.”

It was a growl, his name, needy and deep, and it punched right into Justin’s gut. He took Brian into his mouth, moving slowly down until he felt him all the way back, pulling away before going back in. Brian’s fingers tugged at his hair, pushing him down, hips rocking up, and Justin relaxed his throat, taking it all. He pulled off to lick slow stripes down, taking one ball into his mouth, one hand wrapping around Brian’s dick, pulling steady jerks, slow then fast then slow. He felt the pulse in his hands and stopped. Brian pulled him up roughly and Justin stared down at him. Watched Brian’s hand reach for the condom and lube on the nightstand.

Justin had a flash of another night, years before, when he’d needed something from Brian and Brian had given it to him. No questions. Almost no hesitation.

He grabbed the condom from Brian’s hands, eyes steady on his, he leaned down to brush a kiss, long and aching onto Brian’s lips.

Justin saw the moment Brian remembered and held his breath, waiting. This was what Brian needed. This release he rarely got. Justin realized that, but it was always, still always, Brian’s decision.

Justin knew the moment he’d made it. Kissed him when he rolled over in permission. His heart hammered against his chest. He remembered that first time, how in his need, he’d forgotten Brian. Now, it was all he could think of. Brian. Brian. He watched him grab the headboard between his hands, tuck his pillow under his chin, breathe out a steady wave of air.

Justin smoothed one hand down Brian’s back, setting the condom aside for the moment. He followed the path with his mouth, leaving open, wet kisses down the ridges of Brian’s spine, over the rise of his ass, pausing to lick one cheek then the other, feeling the trembling through Brian’s body.

Justin slowed as his mouth reached Brian’s hole, hands spreading cheeks, tongue licking over the puckered ring. Brian bucked in surprise and, Justin hoped, pleasure. He was staring back at him, and Justin met his eyes, tongue pushing through and inside. Brian’s eyes closed, head thrown back, and it was a prize, that sight. Brian slowly undone by his mouth, by his hands that trailed down sides, holding steady Brian when his hips began to move. He tasted so good. Like soap and dark and Brian, salty and bitter. He stiffened his tongue, diving in, forgetting anything but the smell and taste that was surrounding him.

When Brian bucked unsteadily under him, Justin pulled away, licking his lips and reaching for the lube at his side. Spreading it over his fingers, he replaced his tongue, pushing in slowly, Brian’s sighs rising slightly. It was tight and he waited until he felt the muscles relax before inserting a second digit and curling them. Brian gasped lightly at Justin fingers pushing in. He soothed with one hand, kissing skin as a third finger entered. Brian’s face was buried in his pillow, hands clenching and unclenching on the headboard. He took his time, opening him, letting him get used to the intrusion. The few times this had happened before, Justin had rushed it, too afraid that Brian would change his mind.

This time it was _for_ Brian. It was what he needed.

Pulling out his fingers slowly, Justin pulled Brian’s hips up slightly, sliding one hand underneath to adjust him on his knees, watching Brian bring his head up, turn to glance at him with eyes that were so bright it was almost mesmerizing. Brian watched him slide the condom over his cock and pour lube onto the sheathed shaft. He locked eyes with Justin as he moved into position and took a deep breath when Justin’s head pushed against him. Justin slid one hand over the soft skin at his side, kept his eyes on Brian and pushed inside.

Brian’s head fell forward, low groan escaping almost against his will. Justin closed his eyes at the tightness that almost hurt with how good it felt. He took his time, inching in, gritting his teeth to keep from pushing in all the way, from moving. When he was in completely, his balls against Brian’s ass, he looked at Brian, head still hanging down, hands clenching the sheets. “Brian.”

“Justin.”

He stopped any movement, waiting for Brian’s next words.

“Move. Just fucking move.”

It was what he had been waiting for, and he pulled back, almost all the way out, before thrusting forward, hard. Immense heat shot through him and Justin gripped Brian’s hips to keep steady. He moved slowly, taking his time, building it for them. Brian pushed back, harder each time, faster, wanting more, and Justin pushed in, lifting Brian’s hips slightly and _ohgodrightthere._ Brian’s head fell back, his mouth hanging open, breathing loud and mixing with sounds that came from deep inside. He pushed back against Justin, harder and faster until all they could hear was the slap of skin against skin. Sweat pooled on Justin’s chest and hair, trailing down his face. He gripped tightly, unsteady and lost in sensations. One hand loosened, finding its way under Brian and gripping his hard cock, pumping in time.

“Fuck.”

Justin lost all thought except the tight heat surrounding his dick and the hard heat in his hands. It was all a blur now, unsteady thrusting and thrusting, hands slipping and digging, sounds that filled the room and Brian’s trembling skin, gasps coming in short bursts, his release coming on him, tears that he’d swallowed away coming through his pleasure, and one hand came back to grip Justin, pushing him in deeper and deeper until...

Brian let out a low guttural noise, shuddering in breath, and Justin felt the ribbons of white down his hand, heat and wet. His spine tingled, rushing down and through him, and he was coming hard, bucking inside Brian, screaming from the blind pleasure that shot through him.

They collapsed on the bed, Justin softening inside Brian, and he took a steady breath. He tried to pull out but Brian’s hand bit into his thigh and he stopped, kissing the sweaty back beneath him, and he lay out over the skin, blanketing it with his own. “I’m here.”

The silence was long before he heard the whispered response.

“I know.”

 

  


 

He startled awake hours later, wrapped around Brian, and smiled into the damp skin of his neck, kissing it softly. Two more rounds with Brian reclaiming his rightful place… Justin snorted at that thought… and they’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. He wondered why he was awake now.

The sound of footsteps answered that question, and he looked over at the doorway to meet the steady gaze of Greg Black.

Justin blinked at him and then rose slowly.

Greg turned in the doorway and Justin shook his head. This was not acceptable. He stood up, throwing on Brian’s sweats before heading out of the room. He found Greg opening the loft door to leave.

“Greg, what are you doing here?”

He tensed, then with his hand on the door, he turned to Justin. “I came to check on Brian. Make sure he was okay.”

“I’m here. He’s fine.”

Greg stared at him steadily. “Well, no offense, Justin, but you haven’t been here for a long time.”

Justin took that little truth and stored it away. “Yes. That might be true. But I’m here now. And Greg, I’m not going anywhere. This is where I belong.”

They stared at each other for a long time.

Greg spoke quietly, “I hope you mean that.” Then he was out the door, closing it behind him.

“Hey.”

Justin glanced behind him at a bleary Brian staring at him. “Hey.”

“Was that Greg?”

Justin nodded. “Yeah. He came to check on you. Make sure you were doing all right.”

Brian nodded, smiling a little. “I’m fine.”

Justin smiled back. “You’re not.”

Brian sighed, eyes lighting up some. “I’m getting there. With some help.”

Justin smiled widely and nodded, moving to stand in front of him, pushing up on tip-toes to kiss Brian slowly. “That’s my best attribute, you know. Helping.”

Brian snorted. “Is that what you tell yourself, Sunshine?”

Justin kissed him again, wrapping his arms around Brian’s neck. “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“You’re an asshole, Brian.”

“Yes. But you…”

Justin smiled up at him, eyes shining with promises he wouldn’t say but they both knew he’d keep. “I do.” He kissed him then, letting it all fall to the side, knowing that they would be better this time around.

Knowing that at that moment he was where he belonged, and soon enough, he’d be there.

With Brian.

Always.


End file.
